


Among Winter Snows

by tuesdaymidnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Worship, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Sappy, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight
Summary: Harry could feel his arousal smolder inside him. He was always in some state of wanting Draco, but the fact that Draco had marked himself just for Harry made it spike.





	Among Winter Snows

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on LJ as part of a multi-fandom tattoo fest, sometime around 2011.

“I know you're weird about presents-”  
  
“I'm _not_ weird about presents. I'm just not completely comfortable when people buy me things.”  
  
“That's why I didn't buy your present this year,” Draco said smugly as he brushed non-existent ash off his robes.  
  
“Really? No new cashmere jumpers? No ridiculous furniture I don't need?” Harry teased as he cast the spell, closing their fireplace off from the Floo network for the night.  
  
“That desk was not ridiculous.”  
  
“It had gargoyles on it, Draco. Gargoyles. They scared Teddy.”  
  
“Well, he shouldn't have been playing in your office!”  
  
“He was six! You can't tell a six-year-old to stop playing!”  
  
“When I was six, I was occupied with potions and organ lessons.”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Only Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would insist their six-year-old son learn to play the pipe organ.  
  
“I just wanted to do something special for you, and you're spoiling it,” Draco sniffed, crossing his arms.  
  
Harry softened. He couldn't resist a pouting Draco, no matter how hard he tried. He grabbed Draco's hands and forced his husband to turn toward him. “I'm sorry. You know I've grown quite fond of the desk, after you removed the gargoyles.”  
  
Draco wasn't moved by Harry's apology. “I don't know if I should let you see your present now.”  
  
Harry released his hands and brought them up to cup Draco's face. “I am very, very sorry. I'm touched you would get me a Christmas present without spending money, just because you know it makes me uncomfortable.”  
  
“Well,” Draco admitted, finally looking Harry in the eye. “I did have to spend a little money to acquire it.”  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Oh, stop it, Auror Potter. I didn't do anything illegal. I just required some assistance; that's all.”  
  
“I have to admit, I'm very curious,” Harry said.  
  
“Then come upstairs and get it,” Draco said coyly, grabbing Harry's hand again and pulling him to the staircase.  
  
“So this is why you couldn't bring it to the Manor? It wouldn't fit under the tree?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
Harry trailed along behind Draco, trying to figure out what he had done. His mind went to all kind of possibilities. Draco having a painting done, or maybe he finally cleaned out the spare room that was full of all kinds of supposed Malfoy family heirlooms that Harry was convinced were cursed. He was confused as Draco turned toward their bedroom. They hadn't been at the Manor spending Yule with Draco’s parents long enough for Draco to have done anything to their room. Malfoy elves worked fast, but not _that_ fast. And they would've had to get past Kreacher.   
  
When they crossed the threshold, Draco let go of Harry's hand and walked toward the bed. He flung open his robe dramatically and then sprawled across the mattress on it, still fully dressed underneath.  
  
“Well, go ahead. Unwrap it.”  
  
“I thought you already were mine,” Harry said with a smirk.  
  
“Your present isn't _just_ me.”  
  
“You know I don't like surprises.”  
  
“I got a tattoo,” Draco said proudly. “I've been covering it with a glamour for weeks.”  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. He was sure he was gaping like a fish, but never in a million years did he think he would hear those words come out of Draco's mouth. “A tattoo? But you said after you got your dark mark removed you would never-”  
  
“I know what I said, but-” Draco blushed. Even after seven years together, he still sometimes had trouble sharing how he felt with Harry. “But I know _you_ love them.”  
  
“I don't love them.”  
  
“Harry, we watch porn together. I know you favour that wizard with the blond hair and the tattoos who can put his ankles above his head.”  
  
It was Harry's turn to blush.  
  
“And I already have two of those three criteria,” Draco's voice dropped.  
  
Harry's dick stirred with interest. Draco was indeed quite flexible, just that morning they’d had rather acrobatic shower sex.

“You got a tattoo,” Harry repeated Draco's words.  
  
“Keep up, Potter,” Draco teased.  
  
“It's Malfoy-Potter,” Harry said as a reflex. Then, as if he couldn't believe it, “And my husband got a tattoo for me. Where is it? What did you get?”  
  
“Ah, ah, you have to find it yourself.”  
  
Harry could feel his arousal smolder inside him. He was always in some state of wanting Draco, but the fact that Draco had marked himself just for Harry made it spike. He stalked toward the bed with a growl.  
  
There was no way Draco would have gotten a tattoo where there was the risk of anyone else seeing it. He waved his wand, pulling Draco's robe off his shoulders, out from under him, and dropping it on the floor.  
  
“Using your wand is cheating.”  
  
“I thought you liked it when I used my wand,” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's double entendre. “That's not the wand I want.”  
  
Harry tossed his wand to the side immediately, making Draco chuckle. He was silenced as Harry crawled slowly up his body until he was settled on Draco's thighs. He reached for Draco's jumper and pulled it up and over his head, revealing a button-down shirt underneath.  
  
Harry huffed in frustration and started scrambling to undo the buttons. He got the first two undone quickly, but then he glanced up. Draco's ivory skin was glowing in the dimmed lighting, and he couldn't help himself but bend down to run his tongue up Draco's collarbone. Draco shivered at the sensation. Harry lapped at the dip above the sharp bone. He never tired of the way Draco tasted. He never stopped wanting it, needing it.  
  
“New rule,” Draco gasped. “You have to find it with your tongue.”  
  
“Gladly,” Harry murmured, and started tearing at the rest of Draco's buttons. He needed more skin.  
  
As much as he wanted to see what mark now adorned Draco's body, even more he wanted to worship the body underneath him.  
  
They had a healthy sex life, but they never seemed to take the time anymore to appreciate each other's bodies. When they first got together, it had been all passion. They fucked the way they had fought back when they were just frightened teenagers. It turned into love later. Even after they had settled into a routine and dealt with their responsibilities, it was always a fiery love.  
  
It took a long time for anyone else to understand, but even after seven years of officially being together, bonded for two, it was still palpable. They were like magnets, always drawn to each other. All the casual touches and smoldering glances made it hard for anyone to doubt their devotion.  
  
It was with that intensity that Harry worked, until finally he reached the last button and flung Draco's shirt open.  
  
“Off, off,” he insisted, pulling back only long enough for Draco to shrug out of the shirt.  
  
Then his lips were on Draco's left nipple, pulling the nub into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it, making Draco hiss and arch off the bed.  
  
“You're supposed to be looking for my tattoo,” Draco panted, but his hands seemed to disagree. They were tugging Harry's hair, holding him in place, only relaxing his grip enough to direct Harry to pay his other nipple the same attention.  
  
“I am looking,” Harry whispered against Draco's skin.  
  
The air in the room was warm, but Draco shivered.  
  
Harry began his descent. He did a quick sweep of Draco's torso with his eyes, seeing the faded _Sectumsempra_ scars that always caused a twinge of guilt. As if reading his mind, Draco whispered, “Don't.”  
  
So Harry didn't. Instead, he lapped at the pale skin, down the center of Draco's chest, feeling the fine hair that tickled his tongue, blazing a trail all the way down toward Draco’s waistband.

He reached a hand up to rest on Draco's chest. Their heartbeats quickened together as Harry dipped his tongue into Draco's belly button, sucking at the sensitive skin around it. Every swipe of his tongue made him want more.  
  
“Turn over,” he whispered.  
  
The smirk on Draco's face made it obvious that Harry had guessed wrong, but he didn't care. It wasn't a game anymore; he was craving every inch of Draco. And he was going to have him.  
  
He rose to his knees so Draco could turn underneath him, revealing a beautiful back, with creamy unmarked skin, white like the snow falling outside. Harry rubbed his hands up and down Draco's back, lightly at first and then more earnestly. He was breaking the rules of seeking with his tongue, but Draco was practically mewling as Harry massaged him. And anyway, there was too much skin Harry wanted to touch than he could reach with his tongue.  
  
Harry stilled his hands suddenly and leaned down to drop a kiss at the base of Draco's neck. As he pressed his chest against Draco's body, he realized he was overdressed. He needed to feel Draco's skin against his, not just taste it. So he tore his clothes off, grumbling about casting his wand aside too soon, Draco laughed at his frustration.

“You could help, you know.”

“Mmm, I think I’m just fine where I am.”

Harry pulled off his jumper and shirt in haste, trousers and pants too, until he was naked, straddling the back of Draco's thighs.  
  
He swiped his tongue up Draco's spine, feeling the hard ridge of each bone. So close to Draco's body, he was struck by the fragility that lay underneath him. He grew frantic, thinking about harm coming to the precious container that housed the other half of his soul. He made a path of searing, wet kisses across and down and all over Draco's skin. Draco responded to each touch, each lick, and every time Harry's tongue brushed his skin, he reacted with a hiss, a moan, or a softly whispered “Harry.” The more frantic Harry grew, the more Draco squirmed, and soon he was frotting against the mattress, seeking friction.  
  
The energy in the room had shifted, Harry could feel his magic pulsing in him, heightening his arousal, making him feel more frenzied.  
  
“Trousers. Pants,” he ordered. Understanding, Draco lifted enough to reach a hand under his body to unbuckle his belt and undo the button and zip, while Harry tugged at the fabric, needing them off, needing Draco naked and wanton and all his.  
  
No tattoo was visible as Harry's eyes traced hurriedly up Draco's ankles, calves, and up to his arse. That only left a few places of Draco's skin unexamined. A surge of jealousy spiked in him. Draco marked himself for Harry, but Harry wasn't the one to do it. The idea of someone else putting their hands on Draco made him possessive. He lowered down and dipped his tongue in the spot right at the base of Draco's spine. He could taste Draco's musk, and he couldn't help but lave further down between his cheeks. Tasting the sweet taste that was only his to enjoy.  
  
Draco was moaning and trying to raise his hips, pushing up into Harry's face, seeking more, always more.  
  
Harry pulled back a little to tease him, and that's when he caught a flash of the ink on Draco's skin.  
  
He rolled Draco over artlessly, ignoring the indignant huff at being manhandled, but Harry was focused on chasing the ink, the ink that was marking Draco's inner thigh, the patch of sensitive skin where hair wouldn't grow, where Harry dug his fingers into when he was spreading Draco's thighs open or pushing him back so he could have access to his hole.  
  
Harry stilled as Draco's legs fell open, his eyes trained on the tattoo—his Christmas present.

It was a snowdrop blossom.  
  
“Draco,” Harry choked out. His eyes welled with tears as he raised his eyes to meet Draco's. “You remembered.”  
  
“Of course I remembered, Harry. That was the day my life changed.”  
  
Draco's eyes were wide and open, completely vulnerable like they had been that February during their “8th year” at Hogwarts. They had been civil to one another after the war, but never friendly. For some reason McGonagall assigned them to help Hagrid with a thestral that was going into premature labour. It was a long ordeal, took most of the night, and somehow in the middle of the agonizing cries of the creature and when the calf was birthed and alive, Harry and Draco managed to lower their careful guards. As they trudged back to the castle, they had spotted the first flowers of spring, snowdrops dotting the hill behind Hagrid's hut.

And from that moment everything changed.  
  
A warmth filled Harry as he reminisced, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading through the rest of his body.  
  
Harry paused only to press his lips gently to the blossom on the smooth patch of skin on Draco's thigh.  
  
When he pulled back and looked up, the sweetness of the moment was all over. He needed Draco like he needed air. He needed him to push him and challenge him and to keep him grounded. He needed him to understand when no one else did, to know exactly what Harry needed. He needed to return it all in kind.  
  
But right now, he needed to fill him, take him, possess him.  
  
Every intention of fucking Draco into the mattress was there coursing through him, but his body didn't comply. He needed Draco everywhere, and he couldn't bear the distance between them that was needed to pull out and slam back in.  
  
After a few muttered preparation spells, he pressed slowly in to the tight heat, pushing deeper and deeper as Draco spread his thighs wide, letting him in until their bodies were flush. They were chest to chest, Draco's cock trapped and hard between them. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry, and all he could do was rock his hips, barely pulling back and pushing in, slowly, never fully leaving Draco’s body.  
  
His tongue stayed busy, alternating between kissing Draco deeply and licking down his neck and up to his ear, where he murmured sweet words of gratitude.  
  
When Draco finally came, it was with a sobbing cry that took them both by surprise, but Harry soon followed.  
  
Afterward, Harry didn't want to move an inch, even to retrieve his wand or a flannel to clean Draco up, so he used his tongue instead. Shockingly, Draco let him, which Harry could only chalk up to exhaustion. Draco was starting to doze, until Harry's tongue swiped over the snowdrop blossom.  
  
His eyes shot open and he looked down at Harry, at the look of pure adoration in his eyes, and Draco knew he had finally done right.  
  
“In case there's any question,” Harry murmured against the otherwise unmarred thigh. “I love my Christmas present.”


End file.
